


Miss Always-Freakishly-Prepared

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Guess I should be glad you’re only playing hairdresser. The way you were looking at him back there, I almost thought you were gonna bash his face in.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Always-Freakishly-Prepared

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: yuri & judith, one having their hair washed by the other

“Judy, seriously, I can wash my own hair!”

“Not the way it needs to be washed you can’t.”

That’s the end of the conversation, apparently, because one more tug from Judy’s hand gripped around Yuri’s arm is all it takes to have him stumbling into the castle’s main bathroom after her, and by that point, there’s no point in protesting any further. Judy isn’t normally the stubborn one of their bunch, but when it comes to cosmetics, she’s an unmovable boulder.

And when it comes to getting out the pudding that’s smeared all over his ponytail, admittedly, Yuri could use a little help.

“Let your hair down,” Judy commands Yuri, after clearing out the one poor man who was curling his mustache in the mirror. Without a second thought, she dumps the contents of her purse onto the vanity, and from the resulting pile, Judy snatches up a mini blow dryer and a small bottle of white liquid.

“Shampoo,” Judy supplies as answer to Yuri’s questioning look. He rolls his eyes—of course, he should have expected nothing less from Miss Always-Freakishly-Prepared. “Now let it down.”

Yuri sighs but obeys, yanking out his now soiled hair tie and letting the sticky strands fall freely down the back of his head. Cold slime oozes down the back of his neck, and a brand new wave of irritation towards the bastard who put it there washes over him. Yuri doesn’t really know what he did to deserve having some prissy nobleman he’d never met before shove a pudding plate into the back of his head while he was simply chatting with Judy, but Yuri could tell from the grin on the culprit’s face and the smug way he said _Oh, so sorry_ that it had been done on purpose.

“Guess I should be glad you’re only playing hairdresser,” Yuri drawls, tossing a wry grin Judy’s way as he remembers how her normally impassive face flashed briefly with shock and offense. “The way you were looking at him back there, I almost thought you were gonna bash his face in.”

“I was tempted.” Judy shrugs, turning the faucet to let the sink run. “But we all know how you get when someone takes a hit for you. I doubt you’d like it any better if someone threw a punch in your stead.”

Yuri chuckles. “I do like throwing my own punches.”

Judy’s right; if Yuri really did want to pick a fight, he wouldn’t appreciate it if anyone cut in. But he didn’t want a fight then anyway—starting something during a royal banquet would reflect pretty badly upon the princess who invited him, and he wasn’t about to cause that sort of trouble for Estelle over some nobody noble being petty about sharing the same ballroom as a peasant guildsman.

Judy smiles, pulling off her gloves and squirting the contents of the bottle between her palms. When she orders him to bend his head over the running sink, Yuri obeys without a second thought, his hair falling in dark curtains around his ears and spilling over white marble. He hears Judy cup some water in her hands, and that’s all the warning he gets before she begins vigorously rubbing suds into his nape, her fingers roughly yanking at pudding-covered locks. Yuri’s skull prickles with pain and protest.

“Gah!” Yuri yelp-sputters through the soapy water coming down around his cheeks and chin. “Hey, easy!”

“Beauty is pain, Yuri.” Judy chimes, though Yuri swears he can hear a hint of amusement in her voice. “Especially if you want it done quickly.”

“Take your time,” Yuri hisses through gritted teeth. “It’s not like I’m in a hurry to go back.” Trigger-happy assholes armed with pudding aside, the royal banquets have never been his type of scene in the first place. Any excuse to get out of there.

“And miss out on Estelle’s speech?” Judy asks pointedly, and Yuri shuts up. She’s got a point there—Estelle was working on the speech for days before this, even asked Yuri for help revising it a couple times. He at least ought to be there to hear it. “Speaking of Estelle, she _will_ be hearing about this little incident. She ought to be aware which of her guests are the unsavory type.”

Yuri doesn’t think there’s a point in that; even if they find the guy again, he’ll probably just say it was an accident if confronted. Estelle wouldn’t be able to do anything, and anyway, it’s not like a little goop in his hair is that big a deal. But Yuri also knows better than to try to stop Judy—not to mention he now runs the risk of swallowing soap water if he talks—so he simply nods in acquiescence.

“Glad we understand each other,” Judy says, her hands ceasing in their rubbing to instead start wringing his hair out once, twice, thrice, before pulling away. “You can lift your head now.”

Yuri does so just in time to hear the blow dryer power on, and Judy quirks a brow at him in the mirror as she holds the device to his head and hot air rushes over his scalp. Yuri could totally do this part by himself, but Judy’s evidently on a roll, so he might as well let her do what she wants. He obediently holds still and keeps quiet as she combs her fingers through his hair, the dryer’s noise overtaking any chance for conversation until she finally turns the thing off.

“There. Not perfect, but it should dry in time.” Judy produces a new hair tie—of course she has a spare, the real question is what _doesn’t_ she have—which Yuri readily accepts in order to redo his ponytail. “Sorry for being so rough.”

“Sorry for messing up your dress,” Yuri shoots back, pointedly gesturing to the elegant blue ballroom gown that is now visibly dripping with water down the front. Yuri frowns—he can clearly see her bra through the fabric, and though Judy being shameless is a day in the life for him, the nobles out there would probably think otherwise—but Judy simply grins.

“Oh, don’t be.” Judy slides past him and into one of the stalls, reaching back into her purse to pull out a tightly rolled ball of sequin-covered black. Violet eyes twinkling, she waggles her fingers at him before closing the door. “I brought a spare.”

Yuri can only roll his eyes and laugh. “Of course you did.”


End file.
